


exo drabble collection

by yubat (mintea)



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Space, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, pathcode au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-19 21:18:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3624582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintea/pseuds/yubat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various exo prompt-fills from tumblr and ask.fm, compiled here to make my life easier.<br/>Check chapter titles to search for specific pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. minseok/jongin; uni!au

prompt: "Jongin has a crush on his math tutor Minseok."

\--

“I’m such an idiot,” Jongin says, letting his head drop to the table with a thump.

“No, you’re not,” Minseok replies calmly, as if Jongin hadn’t just failed to solve three problems in a row. “Your ability to differentiate equations doesn’t determine your intelligence.”

“No,” Jongin acquiesces. He lifts his head just enough that he can meet Minseok’s gaze from the corner of his eye. “But it does determine whether I get to graduate.”

Minseok laughs, and reaches out to ruffle Jongin’s hair. If it had been just about anyone else Jongin would have dodged away, but since it’s Minseok he just sits there and lets his hair get mussed. 

“You’ll be fine, kid,” Minseok says. Jongin pouts. He hates that endearment, and the way it simultaneously makes his relationship with Minseok so familiar while also creating a huge distance between them. Minseok smiles sympathetically and pokes Jongin in the cheek. It’s obvious that he thinks Jongin is pouting over the math. Of course he would think that, since Jongin has been painstakingly careful to hide the colossal crush he’s been harboring since he first started tutoring with Minseok. In fact, Jongin should probably be relieved that Minseok hasn’t seemed to notice Jongin’s feelings yet; instead, it just leaves a sour feeling in his stomach.

“You’ve been doing a lot better lately,” Minseok continues when Jongin doesn’t respond. Jongin finally hauls himself back upright and looks at Minseok properly.

“That’s entirely thanks to you, hyung,” he says sincerely. Math is Jongin’s life-long nemesis,  
and the stable B- that Minseok has helped him achieve is nothing short of a miracle. Minseok, however, shrugs the praise off. “No way,” he says with an easy grin. “It’s because of your hard work.” Kim Minseok, specialist in mathematics and deflecting compliments. 

Jongin bites his lip and looks back down at his review packet. He wants to argue, but he had tried that once before and lost miserably. Minseok, once again, misinterprets Jongin’s mood and says, “Come on, it’s not that bad once you break it down. Just get through this problem set, and if you get it all right I’ll buy you a coffee.” 

Jongin side-eyes Minseok. “A real coffee, from the coffee shop, right? Not that crap from the vending machine?”

Minseok gasps and gives Jongin a look of feigned hurt. This involves widening his eyes and clutching a hand to his chest, and he looks, frankly, adorable. “Cop out and get you stuff from the vending machine? What do you take me for?”

“Someone who has done that before,” Jongin says. He tries to pull a deadpan, but he’s always been bad at keeping a straight face. The corners of his mouth curl into a small smile. Minseok immediately drops his act and laughs.

“Alright, alright. Real coffee it is, then,” Minseok says. “Anything else, your highness?”

Maybe if Jongin were a little bit braver he might say something like, “A date,” or even, “To hang out outside of tutoring sometime.” But he’s not brave, so he ignores the weight pressing down on his chest and says, “Extra whipping cream?”

Minseok snorts. “Okay, deal,” he says. Then he picks up a pencil and taps it on Jongin’s review packet. “But remember that you have to get everything right first.” Jongin sighs and turns back to his math. He tries to ignore the way Minseok’s shoulder presses against his own as they both lean over the table, and wills back the blush he can feel rising in his cheeks. Maybe next time Jongin will be braver. Maybe.


	2. minseok/sehun; hp!au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: [this picture](http://cfile4.uf.tistory.com/original/26454849543235B31DED04) (hp!au)

“Where is it?” Sehun mumbles as he pulls back the blanket for about the fifth time and shakes it out again. He already checked the entire area around, and even under, his bed, but the red tie he’s searching for is nowhere to be found. During his hunt he has located the rest of the clothes that had been haphazardly discarded the night before -- vest, button-up shirt, slacks, socks. As for ties, though, the only thing he found was a single green tie shoved partway under his bed. Minseok must have accidentally left it behind when he was rushing to leave in time for his early-morning herbology class. 

In the end Sehun gives up and abandons his search in favor of pulling another tie out of his trunk. He wanders down through the Gryffindor commons in a lingering state of perplexion, absentmindedly wondering where his tie could possibly have gone. Sehun only figures out the answer later, after lunch, when he sees Minseok for the first time that day.

The tie is around Minseok’s neck, knotted neatly and standing in stark contrast to the Slytherin-green vest bordering it.

At first all Sehun can do is stare, slack-jawed, as Minseok approaches him. Some of the people around him also seem to have noticed Minseok’s fashion statement, because several of them are giggling and glancing between Minseok and Sehun. Sehun barely even hears them, though. His brain is too busy whirring around and trying to process the fact that Minseok is now _right in front of him_ and _wearing Sehun’s tie_.

“Is something wrong?” Minseok asks as he slides an easy arm around Sehun’s waist. A group of first-years careen past them and down the hallway, and Minseok pulls Sehun closer to get him out of their way. He also uses the motion to slide his hand into the back pocket of Sehun’s slacks. Someone coughs pointedly as they walk past, and Sehun blushes fiercely.

“What are you doing?” he hisses, elbowing Minseok lightly in the side. Minseok, for his part, looks completely unfazed.

“Hm?” Minseok asks. He widens his eyes and tips his head to the side slightly, but Sehun learned to see through his innocent act long ago. 

“You know you’re wearing my tie, right?” Sehun asks, and Minseok snorts. “Of course I do,” Minseok replies. “And even if I hadn’t realized, so far today approximately half of the school has felt the need to inform me of it.” Minseok speaks easily, as if he isn’t just casually walking around the school wearing his boyfriend’s tie -- a tie from a different house.

“Then why didn’t you take it off?” Sehun asks, his stomach flopping around funnily. Sehun might have a reputation for being a brat at times, willingly joining in with his friends’ class-clown acts, but he’s not sure that he could stand having everyone’s attention on him like Minseok obviously has, and still does. “You’re a prefect, no one would scold you for missing your tie for just one day.”

Minseok shrugs, and Sehun feels it in the way Minseok bumps against him more than he sees the action itself. “Didn’t want to,” Minseok says simply. “And besides, I thought it complemented my sweater nicely.”

Sehun stops abruptly in the middle of the hallway and pulls away from Minseok to look at him. Minseok’s eyes are still wide, but there’s a smile playing around the corner of his lips. Without really realizing what he’s doing, Sehun reaches out and uses the tie -- _his_ tie -- to gently pull Minseok closer. Sehun intends for the kiss to be short and sweet, but Minseok chases it up with another, deeper kiss when Sehun tries to pull away. Some of the students passing by catcall, and others glare as they try to squish past. Sehun and Minseok completely ignore them, though. 

Sehun’s expression must reflect how stunned he feels, because as soon as Minseok pulls away and gets a look at him, he collapses into Sehun and buries soft laughter against Sehun’s chest. 

“It does look pretty nice on you,” Sehun says when he finally manages to collect his thoughts again. He wraps his arms lightly around Minseok’s shoulders. “I do eventually want it back, though.” Sehun is the one to smirk this time, the smile slowly forming as a thought suddenly occurs to him. “How does tonight sound?”

Minseok laughs harder, shoulders shaking, and pinches Sehun’s side lightly. Sehun yelps and jerks away from Minseok, indignant. “Feeling bold now, are we?” Minseok teases, but his fingers rub soothingly over place he had wounded. Sehun pouts as Minseok starts gently leading him down the hallway again. “Let’s get you to class,” Minseok says with a smile. “We can discuss the terms of tie-returning later.” 

Minseok acts nonchalant, but Sehun notices the way Minseok carefully uses his free hand to fix the tie as they walk towards Sehun’s charms class. Sehun can’t help the grin that spreads across his face -- suddenly he can’t wait for classes to end for the day.


	3. minseok/sehun; valentines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the [valentine's sexiu project](http://xiukisses.livejournal.com/2600.html)

Most of the other part-timers at the tiny convenience Minseok works at will do just about anything keep the Saturday graveyard shift off their schedule. This means that Minseok is always stuck with it, but he honestly doesn’t particularly mind. Minseok doesn’t usually have weekend plans -- getting fall-down drunk every week had lost its appeal somewhere around the end of second year of university -- and he prefers the more steady flow of patrons to the almost uninterrupted silence of, say, Tuesday nights. 

There is, of course, also the factor of That One Customer. Minseok isn’t about to complain about his shift when it means he has the chance each week to see a cute guy with an apparent affinity for ultra-skinny jeans. 

The guy comes in every Saturday around 11 p.m., with a gym bag slung carelessly over one shoulder and only the bangs of his pastel rainbow-colored hair showing from beneath a snapback or beanie. He’s got a face models would envy and long legs that his jeans highlight wonderfully. 

Aside from the fact that he’s extremely good looking, there are a few things Minseok also knows about this particular customer:

1\. He always buys a triangle- _gimbap_ , a banana milk, and a Vitamin C drink each time he comes in.  
2\. His name is Oh Sehun -- Minseok found that out by checking his debit card while running the payment through the register.  
3\. Sehun is stopping by the store on his way home from dance practice -- this information Sehun himself had offered. 

Minseok and Sehun chat sometimes, when there aren’t any other customers waiting to check out. The conversations are pretty basic, but even so Minseok finds himself feeling disappointed when Sehun leaves. He wishes Sehun would stay a little longer, talk a little more, maybe sit at the food counter next to the register and let Minseok feed him the stale pastries employees get for free. It’s all just idle daydreaming, and Minseok knows he’s being silly, but it’s something to keep him amused as the hours stretch on long past midnight and into the morning. 

On February fourteenth, Minseok finds another thing to add to the list of things he knows about his favorite customer: apparently, Sehun has a girlfriend.

Honestly, Minseok completely forgets that it’s Valentine’s Day until he notices Sehun pausing next to the front display of chocolates and _pepero_ cookies instead of making his usual beeline to the refrigerated section in back. Most of the panicked last-minute rush for chocolates had happened earlier in the day, meaning that Minseok had missed the indicative increase in sales that would have helped him remember what day it is. After all, a 10 p.m. convenience store run for cheap chocolates won’t do much in the face of rage over a forgotten gift. 

So seeing Sehun at the display sends a jolt of realization through Minseok. Oh, it’s Valentine’s Day. Oh, Sehun is looking for something to buy. Oh, that means Sehun most likely has a girlfriend.

Oh. 

Damn. 

Despite knowing that realistically nothing would come from his interactions with Sehun, it had still been fun to indulge in his little fantasies. Minseok swallows down his irrational disappointment and smiles back when Sehun turns toward the counter.

“Which one would you recommend?” Sehun asks, gesturing to the sad remnants of the Valentine’s display. 

Minseok hums and abandons the inventory sheet he had been checking over to come join Sehun by the candy.

“Well,” Minseok says, “the Ferrero Rochers in the heart-shaped box are quite popular.” 

Sehun huffs lightly -- _cutely_ \-- and crosses his arms. He’s not wearing a beanie today, and there is a button-up shirt beneath his puffy jacket rather than one of the t-shirts he usually sports. It’s not that much of a change from normal, but Minseok can’t help but think that Sehun looks especially nice today.

“No, I mean which one would you get?” Sehun insists. Minseok half-expects him to stamp a foot. 

Minseok bites back a laugh and makes a great show of inspecting the display. He considers all the different candies one at a time, before finally pointing to the array of normal-sized _pepero_ arranged at the foot of a line of jumbo boxes. 

“I would get these,” Minseok says with a decisive nod. “Because they’re on sale. One plus one, it’s a great deal.” 

Sehun lets out a sound halfway between disbelief and amusement. He raises an arm, presumably to punch Minseok in the shoulder, then stops himself. Minseok can see the moment of _crap I don’t actually really know this guy that well I probably shouldn’t punch him_ realization play out on Sehun’s face, and he wishes Sehun had gone through with it anyway. It’s true that they aren’t close, but what small friendship they have has always felt comfortable. Sehun’s hesitation feels like the first stones in a potential wall between them. Minseok feels a stab of irrational panic, and hurries to find a way to break the stones back down again.

“This one,” Minseok says, after another hasty survey of the display. He pulls out a box with a picture on the front of chocolates in the shape of seashells. The box is on the smaller side, and the brand name on it is written in English letters. Minseok holds it out for Sehun to see. “They taste better than Ferrero Rochers, in my opinion.” That’s a lie -- Minseok has never actually tried the seashell candies. He figures, though, that at the very least Sehun’s girlfriend will probably find them cute. 

Sehun reaches out and takes the box from Minseok. He regards it for a second, his tongue peeking out and running along chapped lips as he turns the box over. Finally he looks back up at Minseok with what’s probably supposed to be a smirk and asks, “Is this a one plus one deal, too?”

He phrases it like a joke, but somehow it falls flat. Minseok laughs along anyway, despite feeling like he’s missing something, like there’s more to that statement than just a quip. Minseok would be tempted to label it as falling somewhere close to the category of “cheesy pick up lines” if the context had been different. There’s no reason Sehun would be throwing out a pick up line while buying chocolates for his girlfriend.

“Brat,” Minseok laughs, pushing down his perplexion. “I’m not giving you a discount, if that’s what you’re after.”

Sehun’s smile falters for a brief second before he laughs along. He starts to walk over to the check out counter, so Minseok follows him and then slips behind the till. Sehun is apparently forgoing his banana milk and _gimbap_ today. It’s a bit strange, but Minseok doesn’t say anything. It’s not really any of his business, no matter how curious he is.

Sehun sets the chocolates down on the counter, and Minseok scan them. Sehun tongue darts out again as he’s pulling out his wallet -- not that Minseok is watching, or anything -- and Minseok wonders if Sehun is nervous about something. It certainly seems like a nervous habit, especially coupled with the way his lips pull into a thin line afterward. 

Then Minseok remembers that Sehun is That Guy buying his girlfriend candy from a convenience store at 11 p.m. on Valentine’s Day. That’s definitely reason enough to be nervous. Minseok wonders if Sehun’s girlfriend is truly scary enough to warrant the amount of anxiety Sehun seems to be experiencing. 

Minseok swipes Sehun’s debit card quickly, and hands it back with a cheerful, “Okay, you’re good to go.” He hopes that his enthusiasm might help Sehun ease up a bit, but it doesn’t seem to help much. Sehun tucks the card away and then hesitates, like he isn’t sure what to do next. His eyes wander down to the box of chocolates on the counter and he then proceeds to stare at it for a few seconds, like he has an important question and the box somehow holds the answer.

“Do you need a bag?” Minseok prompts, raising an eyebrow. Sehun jumps.

“No, I’m fine,” Sehun says quickly. He picks up the chocolates, and then is gone with a mumbled goodbye and a jingle from the bells on the door. Minseok manages to wait until Sehun is gone before laughing and shaking his head.

“Poor kid,” Minseok says to himself. “Maybe this will teach him not to procrastinate.” Minseok might not know Sehun well, but he seems like a pretty good guy. Minseok hopes that Sehun’s worry is unfounded and his girlfriend won’t actually be mad at him.

Girlfriend.

Minseok sighs and picks up the inventory sheet he had been working on before. This is what he gets for allowing himself to crush on a customer. Stupid. 

Minseok is squinting at the sheet, trying to find where he had left off, when the door jangles open again. Minseok starts to call out a greeting, then looks up -- and the welcome he’d been giving dies on his lips. He had been expecting a teenager looking for a midnight snack, or maybe a middle aged guy wanting to pick up some beer, but instead it’s... Sehun.

“Is something wrong?” Minseok asks. Sehun’s face is flushed, probably due to how cold it is outside, and he’s still holding the box of chocolates. He all but runs up to the counter while Minseok is still staring dumbly. When Sehun’s close enough he holds out the box, almost in Minseok’s face. 

Minseok looks between the box and Sehun’s face, puzzled. Did Sehun decide he wants the Ferrero Rochers instead after all? 

Sehun takes a deep breath, then blurts out, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Minseok blinks. 

“What?” he asks, because he’s pretty sure he just heard wrong. 

“I wanted to get you something but I wasn’t sure what you would like so I came here and then I was trying to figure out what you would like most and you said you liked these so I got them and then I chickened out and yeah I think I’ll just leave now,” Sehun says all at once. Minseok continues to stare at him blankly the entire time, too shellshocked to properly process the situation. While the gears in Minseok’s head are still whirring Sehun starts to pull away, and that’s enough to finally bring Minseok back to reality.

“Wait!” Minseok says, leaning forward. He hastily grabs for the box and places his hands over Sehun’s own, keeping him in place. Sehun’s fingers are cold from the time he spent deliberating outside. 

Minseok meets Sehun’s gaze and now it’s Sehun’s turn to stare back in surprise. Sehun’s cheeks are rosy and his ears are bright red, and he’s really, really cute. Minseok’s heart jumps into his throat. 

“Do I have to wait until White Day to give you my reply?” Minseok asks with his lips quirking into a smile. Sehun’s face transforms into a dumbfounded expression to rival the one Minseok had been wearing just seconds before.

“No,” Sehun stutters out. Minseok’s smile widens, and he slides his hands off of Sehun’s and takes the box gently. 

“Okay, then thank you for the chocolates,” Minseok says. He decides not to point out that there wasn’t much point in getting Minseok candy from his own workplace -- it’s the thought that counts, anyway. “Can I see your phone?” 

Sehun’s eyes light up with the beginnings of hope. He scrambles to pull his phone from his pocket, unlock the screen, and pass it to Minseok. Minseok quickly adds himself as a contact, then hands it back. 

“I don’t get off work until ass o’clock in the morning, but text me tomorrow and we can figure out a different time to meet.” Minseok finishes his words with raised eyebrows and an overly flirtatious grin; partly for Sehun’s benefit, and partly to disguise the way his own heart is now pounding in his chest. 

Sehun smiles back, hesitant at first but quickly brightening when he sees Minseok’s contact entry. He must have noticed the heart Minseok put in after his name. He had felt childish doing it, but he’s glad to see it had the intended effect. Sehun is positively beaming now. Sehun’s quickly types something before tucking his phone away, and Minseok is sure that somewhere in the back room his phone is buzzing in his jacket pocket.

“Now you have my number, too,” Sehun says, almost shyly.

“Well, now you _have_ to text me tomorrow,” Minseok declares, “or I’ll text you shitty pick up lines until you beg for mercy.” 

Sehun laughs, the last of the tension finally draining from his shoulders. Now he’s a lot more like the guy who comes in after dance practice, and a lot less like the nervous kid who had just asked Minseok to be his Valentine. Minseok smiles back, feeling every bit as relieved and happy as Sehun looks.

After Sehun promises one last time to text in the morning, he makes his goodbyes again and all but skips out the door. Once the he’s gone, Minseok pulls his eyes away from the door and contemplates the box of chocolates sitting on the counter. He still feels a bit weird accepting candy from his own store, but nevertheless he finds himself picking up the box and heading into the back room. 

Minseok leaves the chocolates on the same counter his jacket is thrown across. Candy safely stashed, he moves to go back out to the main part of the store, then pauses and backtracks until he can grab his phone out of his coat pocket. Minseok generally prefers not to use his phone during work hours, even though his boss isn’t strict about it, but he’s dying of curiosity. Making an exception just this once won’t hurt anything. Minseok unlocks his phone, opens Sehun’s text, and is met with a string of cutesy emoticons. 

Minseok puts his phone away and heads back out to the register, smiling so widely it almost hurts. It’s 11:30 p.m. and the world outside the store may be dark, but the promise of tomorrow has never seemed brighter.


	4. minseok/sehun; space!au 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "SPACE AU XIUHUN WHERE MINSEOK LETS SEHUN PILOT THE SHIP AND THEY GET LOST"

Minseok rubs at his eyes, trying to pull himself far enough into wakefulness to make sense of the control panel in front of him. Just minutes ago he’d been in the middle of a nap -- the first time he’d slept since busting them out through the enemy blockade forty-eight hours before. A sheepish-looking Sehun shaking his shoulder and saying they were lost was _not_ the way Minseok wanted to wake from that nap, but here they are. 

“So you’re telling me,” Minseok says slowly, “that despite my orders not to touch anything, you took the ship _off of autopilot_ , and now we’re lost somewhere in the middle of the star wastelands.”

“The autopilot was taking us straight into an asteroid belt.” Sehun is sullen, his arms crossed over his chest and his chin set stubbornly. “I _do_ know how to pilot a ship, you know. I’ve taken lessons before.”

Minseok runs his hands down his face and lets out a sigh. He’s not angry, not really. Honestly, he’s mostly still just glad that they’re both alive. Their escape had been close -- much closer that he’d let on to Sehun. His overhanging sense of relief overshadows all but the slightest bit of irritation.

“And so you decided to pilot on your own instead of getting me?” Minseok asks, turning to look at Sehun with raised eyebrows.

“Because you were so tired,” Sehun replies quietly. His mulishness is quickly fading, replaced by vulnerability. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Even standing, Minseok has to look up to meet Sehun’s gaze. Sehun’s eyes are wide with earnestness and rimmed red from lack of sleep. He’s scared, Minseok knows, still rattled from their escape but trying to cover it up with a brave front. All at once, it strikes Minseok just how young Sehun still is. It was easy to forget before, his age buried under the pomp and circumstance of court. But despite his royal blood, Sehun is still just a kid. 

A kid, who had seen his entire empire get blown to smithereens right before his eyes. 

Minseok musters up a smile and shakes his head fondly. Sehun may not be a prince anymore -- there’s not much left for him to be a prince of -- but he still is, and always will be, Minseok’s responsibility. Minseok will figure this out, he’ll get them out of here, he’ll make sure that they survive this. He _will_.

Seeing Minseok’s smile, Sehun smiles back hesitantly. Minseok’s heart clenches.

“Alright,” Minseok says as he turns back to the control panel. He cracks his knuckles and rolls his shoulders. Compared to what they’ve been through already, this should be child’s play. “Let’s figure out how to get the hell out of here.”


	5. minseok/chanyeol; pathcode!au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "au where minseok gets his powers after being frost bitten and hates the cold because he's cold all time. +1 if chanyeol gets his powers after being burned and everytime they touch the windows literally steam up."

Minseok doesn’t remember what it feels like to be warm. It doesn’t matter if he’s wearing shorts and a tank top or if he’s bundled from head to toe in sweaters, scarves, and down jackets, no matter his attire there is a permanent chill lying latent beneath his skin. Never warm, but never too cold either -- even if he were to walk out into a blizzard naked, he wouldn’t feel a thing. It’s as if he has an internal thermostat that protects him from outside temperatures but is permanently set just a couple degrees too low.

The chill is the price he pays for his powers. He should be thankful, he’s been told. The powers did, after all, save his life when he and his friend got caught in a freak storm while hiking. 

That doesn’t stop the resentment lodged deep in Minseok’s chest. He should have died back then, out in the forest and surrounded by nothing but snow, when the frostbite started to set in and the hypothermia hit. He _should_ have died, but he didn’t, because his powers had chosen to manifest. Now he has control over the thing that took the life of his friend, the very reminder that Minseok is living on borrowed time. 

Minseok hates being cold.

“--burned, and that’s when he found his powers. Kind of like you.” 

Junmyeon is talking, but Minseok isn’t really paying attention. Junmyeon talks a lot, usually about things Minseok should or should not be doing. It’s not really worth Minseok’s time to listen.

Minseok leans back against the beat up sofa he’s sitting on and stares up at the ceiling. His headphones dig into his neck, and Minseok’s fingers itch with the urge to slide them up and over his ears, turn up his music, and drown out the world. He’s not even sure why he’s here, to be honest. Something about meeting some guy, some gyopo from the states who started a forest fire or some shit, and something about welcoming to the community. That doesn’t really explain why Minseok needs to be present, though -- leave the welcoming to Jongdae or Zitao, someone who actually cares.

“Come on Minseok, can you at least try--” Junmyeon is saying when the door clicks open and Baekhyun comes in, followed by someone else. Junmyeon stands and, reluctantly, Minseok gets up too. 

“This is Chanyeol,” Baekhyun introduces once they’re inside, and the newcomer bows. While Minseok and Junmyeon bow back, Minseok gives Chanyeol a once-over. Chanyeol is obnoxiously tall, and wearing a long overcoat over a cardigan, with a hat clutched in one hand. What a pretentious fuck. 

Junmyeon introduces himself, talking a little about their community and their mission of being a safe haven for those with powers, et cetera et cetera yada yada. Minseok’s heard it a thousand times, so he tunes Junmyeon out again. 

Chanyeol is nodding along to Junmyeon’s words, but his eyes keep wandering over to Minseok. Minseok isn’t surprised. One thing about having zero sensitivity to temperature other than a perpetual sense of being vaguely cold is that Minseok has stopped giving a fuck about his clothes. It’s the dead of winter and well below freezing outside, but today Minseok has matched his padded jacket with a graphic tee and basketball shorts. 

After Junmyeon finishes talking, Chanyeol makes a beeline for Minseok. Minseok sighs mentally and resists the urge to turn away, to sit back down, to do anything except talk to this guy. But Junmyeon’s eyes are practically boring holes into Minseok’s skull, so when the guy holds out his hand and says, “I’m Chanyeol,” Minseok just says, “I know,” and takes it.

Minseok expects Chanyeol to pull away, to shake his hand to free it of the residual chill from Minseok’s fingers, to make some sort of concerned comment about how cold Minseok’s hands are. What Minseok doesn’t expect is the tingling sensation that runs the entire length of his arm, up into his shoulder. He doesn’t expect the hissing noise that has both of them jumping back, or the sudden humidity that fills the room and instantly fogs the windows up. 

Minseok clutches his hand to his chest instinctually, but it doesn’t actually hurt at all. In fact, Minseok realizes with a start, it’s warm against his other hand. For the first time in years, Minseok’s skin is actually warm. 

Minseok stares at Chanyeol in wide-eyed shock, and Chanyeol stares back, his mouth hanging open slightly. He also has his hand pulled against his chest, in some strange sort of mirror to Minseok’s own position. Somewhere in the background, Baekhyun lets out a low whistle. Minseok pays him no attention -- he’s lost in the flames swirling behind Chanyeol’s eyes, and the heat slowly seeping away from his fingertips.


	6. minseok/sehun; space!au 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "tell me more about sehun's life growing up as a prince"

The music swells, signalling the beginning of yet another waltz. Sehun turns down a dance invitation with stilted formality, and then lets out a small sigh of relief when the lady accepts the rejection gracefully. If she had insisted, he would have been required to dance -- for him to continue to refuse would have been a huge blunder in the court code of conduct. Not a life-threatening one, hopefully, but there is too much at stake for him to risk a smudge against his character just now. 

For as long as he can remember, Sehun’s life has been like this. Endless rounds of court functions and parties, attended in brocade clothes that are too stiff and collars that constrict around his neck. The constant cycle of ceremony is tiring for everyone involved, but it has become too deeply entrenched into the tradition of Sehun’s empire to stop. Halting the court’s activities would be tantamount to declaring war against the nobles; something not even the royal family can afford at the moment.

Recently, after celebrating his sixteenth birthday, Sehun was finally allowed begin instruction on administrative issues. He had been excited at first, finally freed from the classes on court etiquette and politics that had defined his childhood. He was the crown prince, and yet he felt as if had never been allowed near anything _useful_ , not really. 

But soon after the administrative lessons began, Sehun soon realized why the Emperor and the Council had been trying to keep him from it. Their entire empire, Sehun quickly learned, is far into debt, and falling further with each passing.

The Sey Empire isn’t a large one by any means. It stretches a paltry four planets, all of them short on natural resources. Yet over the centuries the Emperors and Councillors had carved out a place for Sey in the intergalactic economy, starting with manufacturing and trade and then quickly moving on to the more prosperous business of money-lending. Small as it may be, for centuries Sey was one of the wealthiest empires in the Known Universe. 

Was. 

Looking at the records, Sehun can clearly trace his empire’s pathetic descent from lender to borrower. It started perhaps a hundred years previous, when the costs of maintenance first exceeded the total income. When the extravagance of court life had finally taken their toll on the royal coffers. Now the Emperor and Council are trapped, pinned between a ritual lifestyle of affluence and the stipends that nobles living across Sey’s resource-poor planets require to survive. 

And this is what Sehun is set to inherit.

From his position near the wall, Sehun watches the courtiers swirling under the crystal and gold chandeliers and feels nausea roil through him. They don’t have enough money for this ball, they don’t have enough money for the clothes he’s wearing, they don’t have enough money for _anything_. 

Sehun turns to his bodyguard -- standing a few paces away, as etiquette requires -- and makes sure to meet his eyes before heading for a door that leads out into the gardens. Sehun needs to get outside, to get some air before he pukes up his expensive dinner all over his even more expensive shoes. 

Sehun can’t hear Minseok following him, but he knows that his bodyguard is right behind him. Not until he’s far enough into the gardens that the ballroom is reduced to the distant sound of music and chatter does Sehun take a deep gulp of cool evening air and pry off his mask. He’s glad that the masquerade ball only happens once a year -- masks are damned sweaty.

“I don’t know how you stand it,” Minseok says as Sehun plops down on a bench. Minseok seems every bit as glad to be outside as Sehun is, albeit for different reasons. It’s his job to protect Sehun -- hard enough to do during a regular ball, much less in the middle of a masquerade, where disguised identities are the very heart of the festivities. 

Sehun tips his head back towards the sky. Above them the stars are almost invisible, hidden behind a haze of pollution and the brighter lights of various ships entering or leaving the planet. Instead of focusing on the lights, Sehun watches Minseok from the corner of his eye. Rather than sitting next to Sehun, which would be altogether improper, Minseok remains standing, with his feet spread slightly and his hands clasped loosely behind his back. To all appearances he seems casual, even relaxed, but Sehun knows that at the slightest hint of danger Minseok will have the pulse gun holstered to his hip drawn faster than Sehun can blink. 

“What, not overwhelmed with longing for the elegance of court life?” Sehun asks, putting on his best uppity nobility voice. Minseok snorts out a laugh and Sehun grins, gratified. He’s still getting used to Minseok, and every scored laugh feels like a victory.

Minseok is honestly somewhat of an enigma -- he appeared about a month before, after Sehun’s former bodyguard was killed during an assassination attempt. Apparently the incident had shaken the Councillors pretty badly, although Sehun still isn’t sure why. It’s not like he hasn’t been attacked before. But for whatever reason instead of promoting someone from the ranks of royal guards to the now vacant position, the Councillors had brought in a Outsider mercenary. 

Minseok is easygoing, companionable in a way that Sehun’s previous bodyguard never had been. Despite this, Sehun still knows very little about Minseok besides the fact that he was born somewhere so far away from Sey that Sehun didn’t even recognize the name. Minseok is adept at steering the conversation away from himself, and Sehun is okay with that. He can weasel it out of him later, seeing as, theoretically at least, they’ll be spending a lot of time together from now on. If they can stay alive. If the _empire_ can stay alive.

A comfortable silence falls over them, and Sehun continues to greedily fill his lungs with the outside air. The intricate wrought iron designs of the bench dig into his fingers where he has them clenched around the edge of the seat. Sehun welcomes the pain -- it helps to ground him, to keep his consciousness from floating away with one of the ships flying so far above his head.

Every now and then courtiers pass by, in couples or small groups, but most of them are too absorbed in their own business to notice the crown prince and his bodyguard hidden among the carefully sculpted shrubs. It’s refreshing, to go unnoticed. Like this, Sehun can almost forget the heavy burdens of court that have shaped him into who he is. 

Sehun loses track of how long they stay out in the gardens, listening to the faint strains of music and laughter from the ballroom. Minseok never budges so much as an inch, yet he doesn’t seem uncomfortable. After a while, though, he allows his gaze to shift upward until he’s watching the twinkling lights floating across the sky. Sehun wonders if Minseok is imagining himself on one of those ships, if he misses home. 

At long last Sehun hauls himself up with a groan and reluctantly dons his mask once more. The dancing should be winding down by now, and it he should really make a reappearance before anyone starts to worry. 

“Alright,” Sehun says at Minseok’s questioning look. “Let’s head back to hell.”

Minseok laughs again, making Sehun’s lips quirk in reply. Minseok’s home may be somewhere on the other side of the universe, but Sehun’s home, hell though it may be, is here. Here, with suffocating ceremonies and crippling debts and an uncertain future. Here, in Sey.

Sehun grits his teeth as he forces himself to trudge back to the ballroom and, with it, to responsibility.


	7. minseok/jongin; pathcode!au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "xiukai pathcode au where jongin finally finds the boy he remembers from the orphanage"

“I’m so glad you’re here, Kai,” Irene says as she lets Jongin inside. “We need to get this guy out of here, like, yesterday. The authorities are _swarming_ looking for him.”

It’s dim down here, an entire level below the streets, despite the fluorescent lights lining the ceiling. Jongin blinks as his eyes adjust, and then nods his head in thanks as Irene hands him a roll stuffed with sausage. He came directly from London, and phasing always leaves his stomach growling. 

“So I’m taking him back to Seoul?” Jongin asks. This time Irene’s the one who nods. She leads Jongin deeper into the haphazard maze of rooms that makes up the Berlin safe house. Jongin’s never been this far inside before – usually the entirety of his business is conducted in the makeshift foyer just inside the door. 

“Who is he?” Jongin asks to pass the time as they walk. He thinks they must surely be all the way over underneath the next building over by now.

“He goes by Xiumin, but other than that I honestly don’t know much about him,” Irene says. There’s just enough edge to her words that Jongin picks up on the warning: He doesn’t like to talk. Jongin is about to ask more when Irene says, “Here we are.”

She stops and knocks on a door three times before opening it and leading Jongin inside. 

The guy sitting on the cot crammed into the tiny room looks up when they come in. He’s dressed entirely inappropriately for the winter weather outside, in shorts and a flimsy jacket, but that isn’t what strikes Jongin. The guy looks from Irene to Jongin, and Jongin feels a jolt run through his body. 

Jongin hadn’t expect to find him here, in the dingy basement that serves for the Berlin safe house. Or maybe it’s more correct that Jongin didn’t even realize he’d been looking for him until he found him.

In fact, Jongin isn’t even sure how he recognizes him. It’s been almost twenty years, and most of Jongin’s time at the orphanage is a vague blur to him now – even this particular face had turned into nothing more than a fuzzy memory over the years. 

But when their eyes meet, Jongin is four years old again and crying because he fell down and scraped his knee. Suddenly his knee is shrouded in coolness, and the face of another boy, older than Jongin, is looming into focus. _You need to be more careful_ a voice says, reprimanding but kind. Jongin cries harder, and clings to the other boy’s shirt.

By the time Jongin was six that boy had disappeared. The orphanage staff said that he ran away. Jongin had never believed them.

“–is going to take you to Seoul,” Irene is explaining when Jongin blinks back to the present. The other guy is no longer looking at Jongin, but at Irene. Jongin barely even processes this, or hears what Irene says. It feels like he’s been underwater and is just now coming back to the surface. He’s disoriented, almost out of air, he needs to do something, he needs to–

“Minseok?” Jongin blurts out, interrupting whatever Irene is saying. Jongin doesn’t even know where the name came from, but it _feels_ right as he speaks it. The guy – Minseok, Jongin is absolutely certain now, though he can’t say why – immediately whips around to stare at Jongin. The color has drained from his face and his eyes are wide, haunted – as if he’s seen a ghost. 

For a second Jongin dares to hope. Maybe Minseok recognizes him, maybe this isn’t all in Jongin’s head, maybe Jongin isn’t going crazy.

Then Minseok looks directly into Jongin’s eyes and, voice shaking, says, “Who the _hell_ are you?”


	8. minseok/jongin; fake relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "xiukai as friends in a fake relationship that turns real"

It starts with an invitation to his cousin’s art exhibition that weighs heavy in Jongin’s pocket the entire way to Minseok’s apartment. There’s nothing necessarily bad about the invitation itself, but somehow by the time Jongin is collapsed on Minseok’s sofa and stuffing himself with chips ransacked from Minseok’s cupboards, the invitation has acquired a distinctly sinister feeling. 

“It’s not even that I don’t want to go,” Jongin explains mournfully around a mouthful of Doritos. “I do. It’s just that the second I show up without a date my mother and my aunt and all their friends will attack with nice-girls-from-church or offers for blind dates.” 

Minseok hums sympathetically as he searches through his carefully organized shelf for the DVD they were planning to watch tonight. This movie night was the reason Jongin had originally planned to come over -- before finding the ominous letter in his mailbox. Not that Jongin truly needs an excuse to come over. Truth be told, Jongin probably spends more time at Minseok’s apartment than his own. It’s larger, for one thing, and nicer. Cleaner, too. 

It also helps that Minseok, unlike Jongin, makes it a point to actually go grocery shopping on a regular basis.

“I keep telling them that I’m really, truly not interested,” Jongin continues. “I know they mean well, but--” he punctuates his frustration by flopping over sideways on the sofa. The chip bag stays carefully upright -- not only is it rude to get crumbs on someone else’s couch, but Minseok would probably kill him if he did.

“Then why don’t you show them you’re not interested?” Minseok asks. Having located the DVD, he is now putting it into his X-Box. “If you show up with a boyfriend, they’ll probably be less likely to throw girls at you.”

Jongin blinks dumbly at Minseok’s back. Finally, he says, “But I don’t have a boyfriend.” 

Minseok turns and raises an eyebrow.

“You guys don’t have to _actually_ be dating. You could just ask someone and pretend or something, I dunno.” 

“I can’t do that,” Jongin immediately protests. He can feel himself flushing, warmth spreading across his face. “What if I asked someone and they got the wrong idea,” he adds, more quietly. The idea of potentially ruining a friendship over a stupid art show has the chips in his stomach churning unhappily.

Minseok stands and looks at Jongin for a moment in contemplation before pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“What day did you say it was, again?” Minseok asks, glancing down at his phone and presumably opening his calendar app. “The 27th? I’m pretty sure that I’m free that day.” 

All Jongin can do for a second is stare at Minseok in slack-jawed shock. Then he quickly scrambles upright, so that he is no longer seeing the world sideways. Everything spins for a second as blood rushes away from his head. 

“You?” Jongin asks. And then, realizing that Minseok might misinterpret his reaction, he hastens to add, “You’d do that for me?” 

“Sure,” Minseok says with a shrug. He plops down on the couch next to Jongin and offers him a grin. “That’s what friends are for, right? Besides, it sounds kind of fun.”

“Fun,” Jongin replies faintly. Fun.

\--

Jongin is a nervous wreck for the entire week before the exhibition. Once it’s over, though, he can barely even remember why he was so worried. Minseok cleans up well -- _really_ well, and all it takes is a casual arm around Jongin’s waist and some polite conversation and he has Jongin’s mom, aunt, and their entire legion of cronies completely and utterly charmed. 

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Minseok says once they’re in his car, driving home. “Told you it would be fun.”

“Yeah,” Jongin replies. His nervous high still hasn’t quite faded, and he feels jittery with a combination of lingering nerves and elation from having pulled it off. “Thank you so much, seriously. I owe you big time.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Minseok says. It’s hard to see in the dim light, but Jongin is sure Minseok is smiling. “Anytime.”

\--

Jongin’s mother calls a few days later. That in and of itself isn’t particularly strange, nor is her request to go to lunch together. But after she manages to wheedle Jongin into agreeing to meet next Wednesday she slyly adds, “Why don’t you bring your boyfriend along? What’s his name, Minseok? He seems like such a nice boy.”

“Minseok?” Jongin repeats in surprise. “Minseok is--” _Minseok isn’t my boyfriend_ , he almost blurts out, but manages to catch himself just in time. “--pretty busy these days,” Jongin manages to stammer instead. “I don’t know Mom, he might be not be able to make it.”

“Well, you’ll never know if you don’t at least ask,” Jongin’s mother presses on, not at all put off. “I would love to meet him again.”

“I-- okay, yeah, sure,” Jongin says. He feels helpless in the wake of his mother’s determination. “Yeah, I’ll ask him.”

\--

“I am so sorry,” Jongin says to Minseok, not even twenty minutes later. After hanging up with his mom he had immediately panicked and texted Minseok, asking if he could come over. Jongin is a veritable mess, but Minseok for his part seems amused.

“I can just tell her you’re busy or something,” Jongin continues. “You don’t have to do this. Seriously, I’m so, so sorry.” Even as he says this though, gives Minseok an escape route, Jongin can feel his own eyes widening, pleading. He must look pretty darn pathetic, because Minseok bursts into laughter.

“It’s fine, Jongin,” Minseok says. “Honestly, I’m flattered that your mom liked me enough to want to meet again. And besides, who am I to say no to lunch?” He grins widely, and Jongin wonders how Minseok can be so _casual_ about this. Jongin can feel his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest in terror at the mere mention of “lunch” and “date” and “mother.” 

“So that’s a yes?” Jongin asks, a little too eagerly. He sounds desperate, even to his own ears. 

“Sure,” Minseok says easily. “Wednesday lunch sounds great.”

\--

Lunch turns into another lunch, which turns into dinner party, which turns into another lunch, which turns into a charity event for Jongin’s father’s work, which turns into yet another dinner party. 

Jongin’s parents’ socialite life has been a part of his life for so long that Jongin generally just tunes it out. Now that he’s technically an adult, he has gotten used to just opt out of attending whenever possible. And that was working fine -- except that now, suddenly, his mother has started insisting that he comes to as many things as possible. 

Each time he receives a new summons Jongin goes crawling to Minseok, doing his best puppy dog eyes. And each time Minseok shakes his head and laughs in disbelief, but he in the end he always agrees.

It becomes a routine for them, getting dressed up and heading out together. Minseok even goes out and buys some blazers to supplement his wardrobe, since he’s suddenly going to more formal events on almost a weekly basis. It is, Jongin discovers, actually pretty fun after all, just as Minseok had said back in the beginning. The events aren’t too bad when attended with someone he actually likes, and he truly enjoys getting to spend extra time with Minseok.

But that’s exactly what Jongin starts to feel incredibly guilty about -- taking up Minseok’s time, and for something so incredibly silly, too. Yet he never seriously considers just saving them all the trouble by telling his mom that he and Minseok had broken up. Something about the very thought of it makes him recoil. It’s selfishness, plain and simple: not only has this arrangement saved Jongin’s butt, and breaking it off would most likely leave him back at square one. And at the very least, even if his mom has finally gotten the picture about his completely disinterest in girls, Jongin will still be stuck attending events alone.

There’s more to it than just that, though, and maybe that’s what Jongin is afraid to acknowledge: that he enjoys the casual touch of Minseok’s hand against his shoulder or waist, that when the events are over Jongin still finds himself wanting to lean up against Minseok’s side, to tuck Minseok under his arm or curl up together on the couch. 

Of course these are things that they do anyway -- Jongin is touchy by nature, so long as he’s the one initiating -- but somehow it all just feels different while they’re “dating.” And the thought of losing that has Jongin slamming the lid on any thoughts about a figurative “break up” before they can even fully form. 

Selfish, truly. But it’s not like Minseok has ever mentioned breaking up, either.

\--

Jongin is sprawled out across Minseok’s couch again, with his feet across Minseok’s lap. The TV is on, although neither of them are paying attention to the game show playing on screen. Minseok is fiddling around on his phone, and Jongin is busy trying to open the bag of chips Minseok had tossed him when he sat down.

“Hey, can I ask you a favor?” Minseok says just as Jongin manages to get his chips open. 

“Of course,” Jongin says, happily shoving a handful of chips into his mouth. “I owe you so many favors by now, you don’t even need to ask.”

Jongin expects Minseok to laugh at that, but instead he frowns slightly at his phone screen.

“Well, it’s not so much of a favor, I guess,” Minseok starts, then trails off. His tongue darts out quickly to wet his lips, and he keeps his eyes steadfastly on his phone. Jongin stares at him curiously. Minseok is famously unflappable, and Jongin has only seen him get nervous a couple times in three years they’ve known each other. But, for whatever reason, it seems as if he’s nervous now.

“There’s a… thing I have to go to next Friday,” Minseok finally continues. “Just like, something with some old friends. It’s not really a big deal, but I was wondering if you would go with me as my date?”

Jongin almost wants to laugh with relief. The way Minseok was acting, Jongin was thinking he was going to announce something serious. But this? They’ve been doing this for _months_ now. No problem.

He’s about to open his mouth to say as much when Minseok adds, “Not like we’ve been doing, I mean. Like, as my actual date. My boyfriend.”

Jongin’s mouth snaps shut so fast he almost bites his tongue. Minseok finally looks up from his phone, and once he meets Jongin’s gaze Jongin finds himself unable to look away. Everything feels like it’s running in slow motion, even as blood rushes to Jongin’s face and pounds in his ears. 

“Boyfriend?” Jongin squeaks. He can see Minseok shuttering down, and Jongin panics. He struggles to sit up, in his haste forgetting that his legs are still across Minseok’s lap, and loses his balance. As he starts to fall off the couch Minseok lunges for him, but in the end both of them topple over onto the floor. 

Jongin’s elbow bangs into the hardwood, and Minseok’s knee somehow ends up digging into Jongin’s thigh. Jongin is flat on his back, with Minseok half on top of him and the air knocked out of his chest. Minseok fared a little better, managing to use his forearms to catch himself and narrowly avoiding faceplanting into the floor. Now he hauls himself upright, carefully disentangling himself from Jongin so that he can sit cross-legged on the floor.

“Well, that was dramatic,” Minseok says wryly. “So is falling off the couch a yes or a no?” He’s smiling, but there’s still an uncertainty in his eyes that makes Jongin’s heart clench.

“Yes,” Jongin wheezes, then coughs. “Yes,” he repeats once he can talk properly. “It’s a yes, a 100% yes.”

The grin that spreads across Minseok’s face immediately sets butterflies fluttering in Jongin’s stomach. The happiness bubbling through him is enough to distract Jongin from the pain from his tumble. He is most definitely going to have an impressive bruise on his elbow tomorrow, but honestly it seems totally worth it.

“Oh, good,” Minseok says. “I was hoping you’d say that.”


	9. minseok/sehun; space!au 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "please talk about why sehun is no longer a prince and why he's running around space with his bodyguard"

Minseok punches in the passcode on the door and lets himself into the tiny room -- more of a cell, really -- that Sehun is in. The reasoning the Councilors had given at the time for putting Sehun in here had been that it was for his own safety and that of others. Sehun had, after all, been kicking and screaming the entire time Minseok and a palace guard hauled him onto the ship. Yet Minseok can’t help but feel that the purpose is more sinister. He wonders if Sehun even knows the code to operate the door -- Minseok had needed to hack into the ship’s system to find it. 

The lights are on inside the room, and Sehun is sitting on the tiny bed. He’s leaning sideways against the wall containing the port window, with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. When he glances up as Minseok comes in, Minseok can see that his eyes are rimmed red from crying.

“What are the numbers?” Sehun asks, voice rasping, as Minseok sits down on the bed next to him. Minseok sighs and shakes his head.

“No one on Bulen got out, except for those who were already off-planet,” Minseok says slowly, as if it will somehow help make the news easier to take. “They’re estimating that Noq had an evacuation rate of maybe twenty percent, and Naronn about fifty percent. Since Murij was the last to go, they think at least seventy-five percent got off.”

Minseok expects some sort of outburst the words. Anger, maybe, or at least some sort of comment. But all Sehun does is nod, then close his eyes as he leans his head back against the wall. Somehow, this reaction breaks Minseok’s heart more than anything else could have.

“Sehun,” Minseok ventures softly. “It’s not your fault.”

“I _know_ that!” The explosion Minseok had been anticipating comes at last. Sehun’s eyes snap open, and he lunges forward until his face is inches from Minseok’s. “I know that, and that’s the worst fucking part. I’m supposed to be their prince--” Sehun’s voice breaks “--but I couldn’t do a goddamn thing to help. My subjects died, are dying, and _I can’t help them_.” 

He punctuates his last words by pounding his fists into Minseok’s chest. Minseok lets him, then grabs his wrists gently but firmly and holds them away. Sehun looks at him for a second, eyes wide and utterly helpless, wild with anger and fear, then crumples. 

Minseok catches him, pulls him in until his face is buried in Minseok’s neck and his fingers are grasping desperately at the back of Minseok’s shirt. Sehun doesn’t cry -- Minseok doubts he has any tears left -- but his shoulders shake. Minseok rubs comforting circles on Sehun’s back without a word. The first encounter with war, Minseok well knows, is always hard. Even more so when one is completely unprepared for it. 

The news about Bulen had come so suddenly. One second Sehun had been sitting in on a council meeting about taxes, and the next there was an emergency message coming in, saying that Bulen, the furthest of the empire’s planets, had been surrounded by ships. The councilors had pulled up imaging just in time to watch Bulen implode into itself.

The following evacuation had been utterly chaotic. The Councilors, royal family, and staff had mostly fled onto one of the larger vessels, and made it off-planet just in time to watch watch from space as one by one the rest of the Sey empire’s planets were also surrounded by ships and then fired upon. Each of them imploded, just as Bulen had. 

Soon after, those trying to flee had learned that the enemy ships surrounded more than just the individual planets. They formed a barrier around the entirety of the solar system Sey was located in, blocking the evacuee ships from leaving.

When Sehun’s finally stop shaking and he starts to pull away, Minseok says firmly, “We have to go.”

“Go?” Sehun asks, bewildered. “Go where?”

“Away from here,” Minseok says. “Far away, and as soon as possible, preferably. The Councilors are already plotting some way to trade you over for their own freedom.”

He had seen them, gathering together in the corners of the ship or locking themselves into private rooms. They were furtive, eyes darting around as they whispered into each other’s ears. Minseok has never been a tactical genius, he’s just a plain mercenary, but it’s not hard to guess what they’re up to. The very thought has Minseok clenching his teeth, fuming with rage. Dirty bastards, cowards all of them.

“Is that necessarily a bad thing?” Sehun asks. Minseok blinks at him in shock. He had expected Sehun to be angry -- Sehun has always hated the Councilors, but lately he hadn’t even been bothering to hide his contempt. Upon closer look, though, Minseok can see the melancholy and self blame settling in again. He’s still in shock, aided along by years of harmful rhetoric about his station in life. It starts Minseok’s blood boiling all over again.

“Maybe that way they’ll get more people past the blockade, and I can finally be of use for something--”

“Do you even know who’s attacking?” Minseok interrupts quietly.

“The Hexrlis,” Sehun snaps back, straightening. There’s a bit of princely haughtiness reemerging in his gaze, as if Minseok is insulting him by suggesting that he might not know. “One of the goddamn Councilors got himself involved in a plot to kill their queen and _then_ got himself found out, and now the entire fucking _empire_ is gone because of it.”

“Right,” Minseok says. “That’s the excuse they’re using, but honestly the Hexrlis have been waiting for years for an excuse to take Sey out. So do you really, truly think that if you make yourself into a goddamn martyr and go running into their arms they’re going to let anyone else go? Because I can tell you right now that they won’t.”

“You don’t know--” Sehun tries to contend, but Minseok cuts him off.

“I _do_ know, because I’ve fucking worked for them before.” 

Sehun quickly shuts his mouth. For some reason the reminder that Minseok is originally a mercenary always has that effect on him. Usually it bothers Minseok, but at the moment he’s just thankful for having won Sehun’s silence. 

“They’re a bunch of bloodthirsty bastards,” Minseok grimly presses on, “and now they’ve got you right where they want you. The only reason they let some of you escape from the planets was so that you could watch while they destroyed everything, and now they’ll happily take your offering, kill you, and then descend on everyone else and kill them anyway.”

By the time Minseok finishes speaking Sehun is staring at him with wide eyes. Good, Minseok thinks. Maybe now Sehun will reconsider his heroics. 

“I’m so sorry,” Sehun says after a long pause. The words, the change of topic, catch Minseok off guard. “You’re not even from here, but you’re caught up in all of this, and we’re all going to die and you’ll have to die with us and I’m so, so sorry.”

Minseok sighs.

“Sehun,” he says quietly. “Do you remember two years ago, when I was hurt?”

Sehun hesitates, then nods slowly. A courtier had tried to attack Sehun in an attempt to eliminate him so a second cousin could be appointed crown prince in his stead. Minseok had stopped him, but taken a pretty nasty cut in the process. 

Afterward Sehun had cried next to Minseok’s bedside, promising that Minseok could leave if he wanted, that Sehun would break off his contract and give him a parting bonus, that he could get away from the corrupt court and its awful politics. Minseok had refused.

“Do you remember what I told you then?” Minseok continues. “I don’t serve the Sey empire or its Councilors, and I don’t serve it’s prince. I serve _you_ , Sehun, the person, whether there’s money involved or not, whether you’re royalty or not, whether there’s an empire or not. You are my responsibility, and I will protect you until the day I die.”

Minseok stands and holds out his hand.

“You coming?”

Sehun regards Minseok for a moment longer, eyes searching. Minseok stands fast, levely meeting Sehun’s gaze. When at last Sehun stands and takes his hand, Minseok smiles and turns back toward the door.

“Let’s go.”


	10. minseok/jongin; puppy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "xiukai au where minseok lets the cute guy with the poodle puppy bring him into the convenience store even though he shouldn't"

Minseok is in the depths of the ramyun aisle for restock duty when the bell tied to the front door of the convenience store jangles, announcing a customer. Minseok barely even glances up long enough to call out a greeting before going back to methodically moving shrink wrapped plastic bowls from the large box at his feet onto the shelves. He’s so absorbed in his work that he doesn’t even notice the dog until the customer walks into the same aisle Minseok is in. 

“Um,” Minseok says eloquently. He’s bent over, elbow-deep into the cardboard box full of ramyun, and has to crane his neck awkwardly to look up at the customer.

The tall, extremely handsome customer, who also just so happens to have a chocolate-colored poodle tucked into the crook of his arm. 

Minseok blinks up, and the customer blinks back, obviously waiting for Minseok to finish his thought.

“You’re not allowed to bring dogs into the store?” Minseok finally continues. It’s supposed to be a stern reprimand, but it comes out more like a mix of a question and an apology. 

“Oh!” the guy exclaims. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize.”

His voice is nice, Minseok thinks desperately. Just like the rest of him. Even in jeans and a t-shirt and beat up sneakers he looks like he just stepped off of a runway or something. Minseok has never felt frumpier in his uniform shirt.

“We were just heading out to visit a friend,” the guy presses on when Minseok remains silent. “I just wanted to pop in and grab something, I don’t have a leash on me so I couldn’t leave him outside -- I really thought it would be okay, do you want me to leave?”

The genuine concern and worry in the guy’s voice finally snaps Minseok back to reality. He finally straightens -- even standing he has to look up to meet the guy’s eyes -- and brushes his hands on his pants to rid them of invisible dust.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. Just remember it for next time,” Minseok assures the guy with a smile before turning his attention to the dog. “What’s his name?”

“Jjangu,” the guy says happily. “Say hi, Jjangu.” He uses his free hand to wave the dog’s paw at Minseok. 

Minseok laughs and holds his hand out for the dog to sniff. After getting its approval in the form of a few excited licks across his knuckles, he briefly scratches behind its ears. When he looks up again, the guy is positively beaming. _Cute_ , Minseok thinks. Both of them, dog and owner alike. 

“So you live around here?” Minseok asks, trying to sound casual. He must do a decent job of it, because the guy nods enthusiastically.

“Yeah, we just moved in down the street. You’ll probably be seeing more of us,” he says. The slight flush across his cheeks has Minseok’s heart flopping around like the traitor it is. 

“Sure,” Minseok replies lightly. “Just remember to bring Jjangu’s leash next time.” He’s teasing, and he guy laughs with embarrassment and shifts his grip on his dog. Jjangu squirms slightly in his arms in protest. 

Minseok looks at the two of them and doesn’t even bother trying to suppress the smile that spreads across his face. He really does hope they’ll be back -- as soon and as often as possible, preferably.


	11. minseok/sehun; roommates au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: xiuhun roommates au, maybe minseoks reaction to sehun getting him a footstool or something?

When Minseok stumbles out into the kitchen on the morning of his birthday, Sehun is already sitting at the tiny table munching on a piece of toast. This in and of itself is strange enough -- Sehun is hardly ever awake before Minseok. But then Minseok notices a stepstool with a giant bow stuck on top sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor. 

“Um,” Minseok says, drawing the syllable out and giving Sehun a look. Sehun smiles back lazily around his toast. 

“Happy birthday, hyung,” Sehun says with a nod towards the stool.

“Thanks?” Minseok replies. He looks between Sehun and the stool, perplexed. He’s received a fair number of gag gifts in his days, but this just about takes the cake. 

“Now you don’t need me to get things off the top shelf for you anymore,” Sehun continues smugly. Ah, Minseok thinks. So that’s what this is about. 

“You’re so cute when you squirm, though,” Minseok pouts. The truth is that he can actually reach the top shelves on his own. He just enjoys asking Sehun to get things down, and then tickling Sehun’s sides while he’s vulnerable. Sehun makes the most adorable squeaking noises. “You’re taking all my fun away.” 

“Not cute,” Sehun huffs, matching pout for pout. “And I’m acting in self defense here.” 

Minseok sighs dramatically and bends over to pull the bow off. Then he uses his foot to nudge the stool over towards the counter. The stool is simple plastic, colored bright green, just like something you would buy a kid to help them reach the sink. Minseok snorts, but pointedly steps onto it as he reaches into the cupboard for a mug. 

Mug in hand, Minseok turns around. With a completely straight face he raises the mug in mock salute, then steps down from the stool. Sehun, with an equally straight face, gives him a round of applause. 

“Please let it be noted,” Minseok intones solemnly, “that on this twenty-sixth of March I am finally able to reach the top shelf, courtesy of my wonderfully thoughtful and extremely ticklish roommate.” 

Sehun finally breaks, doubling over in laughter. Minseok soon joins him, and the two of them laugh until Minseok can feel tears gathering at the corner of his eyes.

“Happy birthday, hyung,” Sehun says again when he’s calmed down enough to speak. His words are a lot more genuine this time. A sincere wish, all gag gifts aside. 

“Thank you, Sehun,” Minseok replies. Sehun grins, and Minseok can’t help but smile back. A very happy birthday, indeed.


	12. kyungsoo/jongin; fire alarm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: jongin keeps getting disturbed by his neighbor in the basements fire alarms at odd hours and when he finally goes to yell at he's kinda shocked by how attractive he is.  
> (modified slightly ;) )

Jongin likes his lab assistant job well enough. It’s not the most exciting job out there, but his lab station is cozy and the other assistants are all friendly. As far as campus jobs go, Jongin figures, it’s not bad at all.

No, his problem isn’t with his job, not at all. His problem is with--

BRINNNG RIIINNNGGG RIIINNNG BRINNNG

Jongin nearly jumps out of his skin and quickly claps his hands over his ears. The only other assistant in the lab does the same. The damn fire alarm continues blaring away merrily, without a single care for their poor ears. 

Together Jongin and the other assistant -- a fourth year named Jongdae -- make their way out of the room and down the three flights of stairs to the nearest door. As soon as they’re outside the noise subsides slightly, and Jongdae uncovers his ears with a sigh. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, checks the screen, and shakes his head.

“7 p.m. this time. We’ll need to add a sticker to the chart once we’re cleared to go back in.” 

Jongdae’s words hold a wry humor that Jongin find it in himself to reciprocate. The fire alarm is still clanging through his head, scraping across all of his nerves. Jongin _hates_ loud noises. And normally he wouldn’t necessarily be so grumpy, but this is the fifth time this week the alarm in their building has gone off -- and it’s only Wednesday. 

It’s gotten to the point where a chart of days and times has been taped to the wall in Jongin’s lab. “Tracking the data,” as Sehun put it. So far, their chart is all over the place. No trends to plot, just chaos. The fire alarm doesn’t follow a pattern, instead just exploding to life any time of the day.

It’s raining outside, just a slight drizzle, and Jongin hunches his shoulders. He, like a decent number of the other people milling around in front of the building, hadn’t bothered to grab his jacket. 

“I wonder who it is,” Jongin says, pulling his lab coat tighter around himself. 

“Oh, Minseok hyung mentioned that earlier,” Jongdae says, entirely too chipper considering the circumstances. “He asked around, and apparently there’s a group doing some sort of research down in one of the basement rooms. For some reason it keeps catching on fire instead of working properly, though.” 

Jongin groans. If it’s a research project, there will be no peace until the team figures out what’s going wrong. 

Someone finally comes out and gives the all clear, and Jongin trudges back into the building along with Jongdae and the other displaced students and professors. Please let the rest of the day will pass quietly, Jongin silently prays. He’s not sure how many more fire alarm evacuations he can stand.

On Friday, Jongin breaks. He’s barely been in the lab for ten minutes when the fire alarm launches yet another attack on his sanity. He’s running on about three hours of sleep and coming off of a lab exam, and while he’s standing outside huddled under an umbrella with Minseok all of Jongin’s grumpiness solidifies heavily in his chest.

“You said they’re down in the basement, right?” Jongin asks.

“Yeah, room 014 or something, I think,” Minseok says. He raises his eyebrows and gives Jongin a look. “Why, you planning on going down?” 

“Yes,” Jongin says vehemently. Jongin isn’t usually confrontational, but this is downright _ridiculous_. The umbrella is too small, and Jongin’s shoulder is soaked. His head pounds with a caffeine headache. Minseok regards him for a second longer, searching.

“Alright,” Minseok finally says with a shrug. “Your funeral.”

Jongin doesn’t understand Minseok’s words until they’ve been given the okay to go back into the building and Jongin has marched down to room 014. He knocks first, then waits a few seconds. Just as he’s about to reach out to grab the handle, though, the door slams open -- almost into Jongin’s face.

“Can I help you?” someone demands. Jongin takes a step back and blinks a few times before managing to process the guy now standing in front of him. He’s shorter than Jongin, with soft-looking black hair, large eyes, and full lips. There’s a name tag clipped to his lab coat, and Jongin just barely manages to process that it identifies the guy as Do Kyungsoo. He’s too busy staring at the guy’s face.

_Oh,_ Jongin thinks. _Cute._

“Um, I was just wondering--” Jongin starts, then falters. All of his angry words have vanished from his head, replaced by a mantra of _cute guy cute guy cute guy help what do I do._

“If you’re here about the fire alarms, you’re wasting your time,” the guy -- Kyungsoo -- snaps, before Jongin has a chance to finish his thought. Startled, Jongin nearly takes another step back. Kyungsoo’s eyes are practically blazing. “The sensors in this room are really sensitive, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” 

“No, I--” Jongin stutters. His brain is racing, simultaneously trying to backtrack and come up with something to say. In a moment of panic he blurts out, “I was just curious about your research, that’s all.” 

“Oh!” Kyungsoo visibly brightens. His scowl dissipates and is replaced by a bright smile. Jongin’s heart flops desperately. “It’s a bit hard to explain, actually. Would you like to come in and see?”

Kyungsoo moves slightly so that he’s no longer blocking the doorway. Despite the rain outside, he seems to be radiating sunshine. 

“Sure,” Jongin says, moving forward automatically. He should honestly be heading back up to work, but as Kyungsoo leads him inside and starts chattering about his research Jongin can’t find it in himself to regret his decision.


	13. minseok/jongin; pathcode!au 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: would you be interested in continuing the xiukai pathcode au?

Jongin sits up slowly with a groan. His head feels too heavy, and his mouth tastes fuzzy. He blinks as the blue checkered blanket in the guest bedroom at Suho’s house swims into focus. Jongin takes a few seconds to run his fingers over the blanket, letting familiarity wash over him, before sliding out of bed and heading for the bathroom. 

After taking a few minutes to wash up and change into fresh clothes, Jongin makes his way to the kitchen. By his best estimate he was asleep for at least 48 hours. Phasing quite literally drains his energy -- the farther he goes, the more energy it takes. A short hop will make him hungry; at trip across the world like he’d done with Minseok will knock him out for days. 

Jongin pulls open the fridge and silently sends out a thank you for Suho’s thoughtfulness. The fridge is stocked with protein-heavy foods, the very sight of which sets Jongin’s stomach growling, and he quickly pulls out a carton of eggs. After fetching a frying pan from the cupboard, he grabs an apple to munch on while waiting for the pan to heat up. 

The clock on the microwave reads 3:30 p.m., meaning that Jongin has at least another three hours alone before Suho gets back from work. Jongin hums to himself as he cracks an egg into the pan. The smell of food is finally helping him feel more awake. 

Honestly, he doesn’t remember much from the trip over. He knows that he had stuttered out some short, half-assed explanation about the orphanage, and been told by Minseok that he had the wrong person. Shortly after Jongin had phased them right into Suho’s living room and then promptly passed out. 

Thinking about it now, Jongin feels even more certain that Minseok had been lying. Jongin isn’t superstitious, but one thing he’s learned over the years is to trust his gut. Intuition has kept him alive this far, and now it’s telling him that Xiumin is Minseok, and that Minseok is somehow important. Jongin just wishes he knew _why_. 

Jongin is about halfway through a plate of scrambled eggs when the lock on the front door beeps, indicating that someone is punching in the combination code. After four beeps, the door sings out a short trill and clicks open. Jongin blinks. Unless he had actually slept four days and it’s now the weekend, Suho shouldn’t be home this early. While Jongin is still wondering what could possibly be wrong for Suho to be home in the middle of the afternoon, the door swings open and Minseok steps through. 

Suho’s apartment isn’t very large, and Jongin has a clear view of the front door from his seat at the table. He stares at Minseok in shock, and Minseok stares back, clearly startled to see Jongin up and about. Minseok recovers first, sliding the rest of the way into the apartment and shutting the door behind him. There are shopping bags over his arm -- clothes, from the look of it. 

As Minseok toes his shoes off and walks through the tiny living room and into the kitchen, Jongin’s head spins. There are numerous safe houses scattered across Seoul, but Suho’s apartment isn’t one of them. This is a transit hub, at most. A place to quickly gather information and then send people on their way. For Minseok to still be here after several days, and not only that but to _know the passcode_ , must mean that he has some sort of personal connection to Suho. Jongin has been transporting people to this house at least once a month for more than two years now, and no one has ever stayed longer than a few hours. 

“Hey, Kai. Did you sleep well?” Minseok asks when he’s a few feet away from the table. He stops walking and stands there, looking as if he feels about as awkward as Jongin feels. 

“Huh?” Jongin asks, still lost in thought. “Oh, yeah, I did. Thanks.” They descend into awkward silence, and Jongin grasps for something more to say. After a second he settles on, “Would you like some eggs?”

The edge of Minseok’s mouth quirks ever so slightly.

“No, thank you,” he says politely. They continue to stare at each other for a while longer before Minseok seems to come to a decision, dumps his bags on the floor, pulls out the chair across from Jongin, and sits down. 

“Um,” Jongin says, at the same time Minseok says, “We should talk.”

“Talk?” Jongin asks, confused. His mind flashes back to the Berlin safe house and Irene’s warning. If Minseok apparently hated talking, why was he now suggesting they do just that? 

Minseok nods. He leans forward, and Jongin resists the urge to slump down in his chair. It feels a little like he’s in an interrogation room, about to receive a grilling. 

“First, how do you know my name?” It’s not a question so much as a demand.

“Oh,” Jongin says. _Oh_. “So I was right.” 

“Yes, you were right,” Minseok’s voice is sharp, dangerous. Cold. “Now tell me why.”

“Like I said before, from the orphanage,” Jongin says haltingly. Minseok’s eyes are piercing through him, and Jongin shivers. “You took care of me, protected me from the staff and the other kids.” Jongin bites his lip as he looks up. Minseok’s expression hasn’t changed at all, still impassive. Jongin can feel himself shrinking, reverting to his four year old self, as he asks, “You really don’t remember?” 

Minseok finally cracks, face softening just the slightest bit. When he shakes his head, he looks almost sad. Jongin’s stomach, rumbling just minutes before, suddenly feels like it’s full of lead. The smell of the now-cold eggs in front of him is making him nauseous. 

“I’m sorry,” Minseok says, and the pity in his voice is worse than if he’d gotten angry or accused Jongin of lying. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, just--” Minseok pauses, considering his words. “I don’t remember much from before.” 

_Before what?_ Jongin wants to ask. The way Minseok said it made it sound important: a place, an event, something more than just an arbitrary marker of time. But he bites his tongue. Jongin knows that he’s walking on thin ice here -- one misstep and he’ll be in over his head.

They fall back into silence, and Jongin wonders if that will be the end of the conversation. He stares at the congealed eggs, trying to calm the mix of disappointment and curiosity raging inside him. When Minseok speaks again, Jongin startles out of his reverie and jerks his gaze back up from the table. 

“I don’t remember anything from my childhood,” Minseok says quietly. “Everything before I’m about ten is just a giant blank. Nothing there.” He stops, swallows. Shakes his head as if to clear it. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. I guess, when you knew my name, I just hoped that maybe I had found something. That maybe talking to you would help me remember.” 

Minseok stands, and the chair scrapes backwards across the floor. Jongin jumps, knocking the fork off his plate. It clatters to the table. 

“Sorry for bothering you,” Minseok says, bending to pick up his shopping bags. 

“ _Wait_ ,” Jongin says desperately. Minseok straightens, looks at him. Jongin’s mind races. He has to say something, _needs_ to say something, but he doesn’t know what. The moment is going to pass and he’s going to miss it, so he panics and blurts out, “My name is Jongin.” 

Minseok blinks at him. For those with powers names are everything. They can be the difference between slipping under the radar and ending up in a government facility. The more who people know your name, the more at risk you are. A real name is something given only to the closest of friends, or maybe a lover, and sometimes not even then. The way Jongin blurted out Minseok’s name back in Berlin had been unthinkable. Giving out his own name now is even more so. 

“My name is Jongin,” he repeats. A plea, a prayer. “Does that really mean nothing to you?”

Minseok hesitates, staring at Jongin, then slowly shakes his head. 

“I’m sorry, Jongin,” he says. For a second it looks like he might say something else, but in the end he just bows slightly and then disappears down the hallway. 

Jongin waits until he hears the click of a door closing before he collapses. He slumps back into his chair and tips his head back, closing his eyes. He can feel tears behind his eyelids. When the first sob shakes through his chest, he suppresses it stubbornly. Jongin doesn’t even know why he’s so upset. He had completely forgotten about Minseok until just a few days ago, so why is this suddenly such a big deal? He could say that it’s just because Minseok was the only one to ever show him kindness in that place, but that doesn’t feel right. Maybe it’s because now that Jongin has found Minseok, he can’t shake the feeling that he’s losing him again. 

Jongin isn’t sure how long he sits there with his eyes squeezed shut in denial, taking long, shaky breaths. When he opens his eyes again, his cheeks are wet. He scrubs at them angrily, then stands and grabs his plate. The rest of his eggs go into the trash; the plate goes into the sink. Usually the sink is full of things waiting to be washed, but today it’s empty. Jongin wonders if that’s Minseok’s doing. As if he’d opened a gate, memories keep rushing back in now. Jongin remembers that Minseok had been neat, even when they were young. He always kept his tiny corner and his meager possessions perfectly tidy. 

Something inside Jongin lurches. He needs to get out of here, needs to get some air, needs to think. He goes out to the living room and searches until he finds some paper and a pen. He writes a short note saying he’s gone out and will be back soon, and leaves it on the kitchen table. 

_“I’m sorry, Jongin.”_

Jongin backs up from the table, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and _leaps._


	14. minseok/jongin; pathcode!au 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: I hope you're still interested in the xiukai pathcode au! Maybe kai getting injured or xiumin having a flashback of a kid crying,but he still doesnt remember anything, only flashbacks that aren't clear.

Junmyeon is worried. Minseok can tell by the way he’s sitting ramrod straight on the couch, one foot tapping and hands balled into fists on his thighs. The TV is on, but neither of them are watching. Minseok is looking over some reports, and Junmyeon’s gaze is fixed somewhere in the direction of the entryway. It’s nearly 12 a.m. and Kai-- no, Jongin -- still isn’t back. 

“Stop worrying, I’m sure he can take care of himself,” Minseok says as he turns the page of the report he’s reading. Junmyeon immediately jerks as if Minseok slapped him.

“I’m not worrying,” Junmyeon says, defensive. 

“Yes, you are,” Minseok replies, keeping his eyes on the page. “You need to stop collecting strays, it’s bad for your nerves.”

“I don’t collect strays,” Junmyeon huffs. 

Minseok looks up from his report, catches Junmyeon’s eye, and raises one eyebrow. Junmyeon’s words are a damn lie, and Minseok knows it. Knows it better than anyone else -- he had, after all, been the first stray Junmyeon had taken in, back when they were teenagers. Minseok was freshly escaped from the government facility, wandering around Seoul aimless and homeless. Junmyeon had taken him in, given him clothes, food, a place to stay. Junmyeon had even been the one to help Minseok figure out a fake name. He had saved Minseok’s life, in more ways than one.

Under the weight of Minseok’s gaze, Junmyeon falters. Minseok sees the flash of vulnerability, even if it’s only there for a second. But before either of them can say any more, there’s a quiet _whoosh_ from the entryway, like air is being sucked away into a vacuum. They both startle and turn, and Minseok watches in awe as Jongin materializes.

Minseok may have phased with Jongin before, being part of the process and watching it happen are two completely different experiences. The whole thing only takes a second or two, but it feels like much longer -- Jongin doesn’t step in through a portal, or pop into existence all at once. Rather, it seems like his form is being rendered from the air itself. At first it’s just a faint outline of a person, then the transparency gives way to opacity. Instead of fading from existence, Jongin is fading into it. 

As he solidifies Jongin sinks into a half-crouch, like he’s landing a jump. Then he straightens and freezes as he catches sight of the living room, obviously surprised to find both Minseok and Junmyeon still sitting up. A moment of tense silence ensues, all involved parties too startled to speak, before Junmyeon breaks it with a sigh.

“It’s freezing outside, and you couldn’t even bother to take a jacket?”

Jongin blinks, taken aback by Junmyeon’s words. He glances down at his own bare arms, as if noticing them for the first time.

“I wasn’t outside much, really,” Jongin says with a shrug. 

“Where were you, then?” Junmyeon demands, and Jongin visibly recoils. Not, Minseok thinks, because Jongin is afraid of Junmyeon. It seems more like he’s blanching at the thought of telling Junmyeon where he’d gone. 

“I left you a note,” Jongin replies, deflecting. He takes a step forward, stumbles, uses the wall to catch his balance again. 

“Were you drinking?” Junmyeon asks sharply. Minseok can hear the sudden fear in his voice. Alcohol is dangerous to those with powers on many accounts; it can loosen tongues, lower guards, incapacitate. A night out with friends can easily lead to a waking up in a government facility the next morning. 

“Only a bit,” Jongin says. “I already told you, I wasn’t outside. It was safe.”

“Safe? How do you know that? Where the hell _were_ you?”

“Does it really matter?” Jongin snaps. He starts walking toward the hallway, most likely intending to end the conversation there, but after two steps he stumbles again. This time his reflexes aren’t fast enough and he goes down, hard. One knee slams into the floor before he manages to break his fall with his hands. Letting out a yelp of pain, he quickly shifts his weight so that he’s sitting on the floor and cradling his knee. 

Minseok is across the room before he even realizes what he’s doing, before even Junmyeon can react. In an instant he’s at Jongin’s side, kneeling and placing a hand on Jongin’s hurt knee. 

“Are you okay?” Minseok asks. “Here, let me look at it.” His powers are already flowing through his fingers, working to numb the pain even through the denim lying between Minseok’s hands and the injury. Jongin hisses at the sudden cold, and Minseok looks up. 

Their eyes lock, and suddenly Minseok finds himself spiraling down, down, farther inside himself than he knew he could go. Everything around him is distorted, like he’s trying to look through wavy glass or the bottom of a bottle. Minseok is younger than in any of his other memories, and there’s another boy even younger. The younger boy is squirming, crying. Minseok feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. _Don’t cry,_ he wants to say. _I’ll make it better, I promise, I’ll make it stop hurting._

Then Minseok is back, and the eyes he’s looking into aren’t those of a child but Jongin’s, wide with surprise and a different kind of hurt -- the kind that Minseok’s powers can do nothing to ease. 

Jongin jerks away from Minseok’s touch, as if Minseok’s fingers wield fire instead of ice. All traces of alcohol are gone from his movements as he scrambles backward and upright, backing himself up against a wall and staring down at Minseok. Minseok, for his part, feels like the ice has betrayed him, frozen him in place with one hand still outstretched. Cold may not be able to hurt him, but all the same his fingertips are numb.

“Don’t,” Jongin rasps out. “Please don’t touch me. It hurts too much.” 

For a second Minseok’s vision wavers. In front of Jongin is a small boy of maybe four, the same boy from Minseok’s vision -- memory? Minseok blinks, and the boy is gone. Minseok inhales deeply, the breath rattling through his lungs as he fights to keep his body from trembling. 

“I’m sorry,” Minseok says, looking up at Jongin’s face once more. It’s a strange parody of their conversation from that afternoon, the apology returning, serving as a refrain. Before, though, Minseok had mostly been sorry for himself, because what had seemed like a potential well of information had instead run dry. Now he isn’t sure who he’s apologizing to: Jongin, for hurting him, or the little boy, for being unable to keep his promise. 

Jongin flinches. Minseok’s heart feels like it might rend itself in two. There’s no reason for him to feel this way, he doesn’t even _know_ this guy. Over the years he’s become adept at freezing his heart, encasing it in ice so he can hold people at a distance. But in just three meetings Jongin has shattered that ice almost completely. Minseok just wishes he knew _why_. 

“I’m sorry,” Minseok repeats. “I just wanted to help you.” In the distance, on the very edge of his consciousness, there’s the faint sound of children laughing, followed by a scream. A headache sears through his temples. 

“I think,” Jongin says slowly, “that maybe you need to help yourself first.”

Then Jongin takes another step backward, and all Minseok can do is watch as Jongin fades away. The phasing process is even more unsettling in this direction, Jongin’s figure simply becoming more and more insubstantial until there’s nothing left. Sand falling through Minseok’s fingertips.

At first Minseok is too shocked by the sudden departure to react. Then all at once the strength drains from his body and he collapses. Down on his hands and knees in the entryway of Junmyeon’s apartment, Minseok surrenders and lets the tremors consume his body.

“Shit,” Minseok says to the cheap wood laminate flooring. Blood pounds in his ears, and he squeezes his eyes shut to stop the world from spinning. “ _Shit_.”


	15. minseok/junmyeon; coffee shop!au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this wasn't a prompt, i just wanted to write a short xiuho for jinwann ♡

When Junmyeon comes through the cafe door a little after ten in the morning, Minseok starts making his coffee before Junmyeon even has a chance to order. 

“One sixteen-ounce skinny latte for Kim Junmyeon,” Minseok says with a twinkle in his eye when Junmyeon finally reaches the counter.

“You know me so well,” Junmyeon replies, giving Minseok an easy grin. He’s been coming to this cafe almost every day for close to a year now. The atmosphere is nice, and he likes doing his work outside of the house -- though Junmyeon shudders to think of how much money he has poured into the coffee and pastries here. 

“Well, you _are_ my favorite customer,” Minseok says. It’s an old joke, going back so far that Junmyeon doesn’t even remember how it got started, but it still makes his stomach flip. What he wouldn’t give for it to not be a joke. 

“And you’re the best barista,” Junmyeon counters, fulfilling his own end of the joke. In his case, though, he’s completely serious. Junmyeon may not be the pickiest of coffee connoisseurs, but in his humblest of opinions no one makes coffee like Minseok does. 

Minseok just grins and finishes off Junmyeon’s drink with a flourish. He takes Junmyeon’s money and winks when Junmyeon leaves his customary tip in the hand-decorated jar. Junmyeon grabs his drink and heads for his usual table, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. 

His friends like to tease him about his coffee shop crush. They all seem to find it hilarious that a guy who edits fiction stories for a living and spends all his time groaning about the overuse of cliches has managed to land himself in the ultimate cliche. Junmyeon can’t really say that he blames them. His situation _is_ pretty ridiculous.

It hadn’t been love at first sight, although Junmyeon had certainly noticed how cute Minseok was right from the first time he came in. But over the months Junmyeon has found himself drawn to Minseok, even though they only truly get to interact when the shop is particularly slow. He loves Minseok’s laugh, the care he puts into every drink he makes, how he always has a smile for Junmyeon, even in the middle of the worst rushes. 

They’re close enough now to joke around to the point of shameless flirting, and Junmyeon doesn’t mind in the least. No, the problem is that he’s unsure if Minseok’s is flirting because he feels comfortable enough with Junmyeon to tease him, or if he actually means it. Junmyeon knows which one he _wants_ it to be, but he doesn’t want to accidentally read something into Minseok’s actions that isn’t actually there. He would never force his feelings onto Minseok. 

And so he’s at a standstill. He really, really wants to ask Minseok out. But he’s scared of making Minseok uncomfortable, and so he holds back. Or, as his friends prefer to say, he chickens out. Whatever you call it, the outcome is the same.

If someone submitted this plotline to him as a story, Junmyeon would reject it without a second thought. And yet here he is, smiling dumbly at the cute cat latte art Minseok had made for him and feeling like his heart is made of mush. 

Junmyeon regretfully forces himself back to reality and starts pulling papers from his bag. As he’s rummaging around for a particular sheet, a shadow falls over his table. Surprised, he looks up and finds Minseok pulling out the chair across from him. Minseok plops down and offers Junmyeon a gummy smile.

“I’m supposed to be cleaning the tables,” he says, brandishing the clean rag he has in one hand, “but I figured I could take a short break first.”

“You’re always welcome at my table,” Junmyeon says graciously, as if he were the owner of the cafe and not a customer. Minseok laughs, and his eyes crinkle in a way that has Junmyeon’s stomach doing summersaults again. 

“Got a lot of work today?” Minseok asks sympathetically when he notices the stack of papers Junmyeon has in front of him on the table.

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says with a sigh. “I’ll most likely be here until dinner time.” 

“Oh yeah?” Minseok asks. He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head to the side. “Do you think you’ll probably finish up around, say, five or so?”

“Probably,” Junmyeon agrees, speaking slowly. “Why?”

“Well, I get off at five. So maybe we could go get dinner or something?”

Minseok is giving him this hopeful look, and Junmyeon’s heart is doing its best to beat right out of his chest.

“Like, a date-dinner?” Junmyeon asks after a second. “Or a friends-dinner?”

“I was thinking a date-dinner, if you want,” Minseok says with a shrug. Only the way his fingers tap against his leg betrays his nerves. “But if not, then a friends-dinner for sure.” 

“I would love for it to be a date-dinner,” Junmyeon says, with no small sense of relief. So Minseok _had_ liked him back, after all. _Does_ like him back. 

“Great! It’s a date,” Minseok says. That mischievous look is back in his eye as he stands and pushes the chair back into its proper place. “Dinner at five, then. Don’t be late.”

“Don’t worry, I’m _pretty_ sure I’ll be early,” Junmyeon shoots back. Minseok laughs as he leaves Junmyeon’s table to start wiping the rest of the tables down. Junmyeon turns back to his papers with a grin, his heart feeling full enough to burst. Maybe his cliche love story will get its equally cliche happy ending after all.


End file.
